


grave calling

by qundalon



Series: grave calling [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Character Study, F/F, i have no idea what im doing and my verb tenses are probably off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 08:45:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5369054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qundalon/pseuds/qundalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She is many things, but she is not a hero, a savior. She is not meant to lead.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	grave calling

_"Did I ever even have a choice?"_

* * *

i.

There is a child on her knees in the dirt, with an older boy from the other side of town standing over her. He says something cruel that she can't quite make out, but the girl next to him laughs.

He hits hard and fast, unrelenting even as she cries out, throwing her arms in front of her face.

 _(It's too much,_ too much _, and she can barely breathe. She wants to stand and fight back, but she can't, and that is worse than the pain. He knows he will win again.)_

Finally, the girl with him taps his shoulder, and he sprints in the direction they had come from. She is left behind on her hands and knees, coughing as she tries to push herself to her feet.

ii.

She doesn't relax until she is safely back home. She startled to easily; every noise had made her jump, even the ones she knows could not have been heard upstairs.

The next time will need more planning, she decides as she settles comfortably atop her bed and overturns the coin purses to find out exactly how much she has taken.

 _(She takes and she takes and she takes-- that is the way it has been for as long as she can remember, and the way it will be for as long as she can imagine._ Selfish _, she thinks._ Incorrigible _.)_

When the money is hidden carefully under the table by her bed, she falls asleep with a smile on her face.

iii.

She is fifteen and afraid; she is sitting on the floor in silence while her parents speak quietly in the next room over.

 _Look at all the trouble you've caused_ , a part of her thinks. _They are deciding to what to do with you_. She realizes she does not want to know. This has happened too many times for their decision to be anything pleasant.

She catches pieces of what they are saying: "We can't-- this is madness-- needs to stop!" Her mother raises her voice as she goes on.

There is silence, until father asks, "What do you suggest?"

She does not wait to hear the answer.

iv.

She trains with weapons in the years before she leaves. It keeps her idle hands busy with something that won't get her hauled away by guards if she is seen, and for once she is glad to have the distraction.

Daggers quickly become her weapon of choice; they are easily concealed and light, and she picks up the technique fairly quickly.

She practices each day until her limbs feel heavy. It is difficult to move in the mornings, when her entire body is sore, but it is worth it.

_(She fights and she fights and she fights, as if it is the only way she will be able to survive another day.)_

v.

She is seventeen and alone; she tastes blood and bile but forces herself to her feet and throws another punch. When the man before her finally yields, she takes his coin purse and slips into the crowd in market.

She waits until it is dark to leave the town; it is easier to take things left at the market stalls once night falls.

_(Small items like daggers and jewelry can be sold for a tidy little profit, when she finds someone willing to buy things she has stolen.)_

She will do what it takes to survive.

vi.

Marielle meets Talsi for the first time a few months after she leaves her home. She is something new, a starling combination of cynicism and idealism. She toes the line between confidence and arrogance but is successful in her endeavors, and Marielle finds that she is in awe of her.

Talsi props herself up against a barrel with ease, and brushes her hair from her face. Her smile is bright _genuine_  when she asks Marielle if she is willing to join her for a time.

"Me?" She is desperate for a partner, for anything that resembles friendship. She is too hopeful, too willing to put all of her trust in a complete stranger, but the possibility of having someone to rely on overwhelms her.

_(It would be safer, in the long term, to refuse. There are too many ways it could go wrong, too many outcomes where she ends up cornered without an escape route.)_

She says yes without a second thought.

* * *

They sit side by side in some inn, nursing drinks they can barely afford. There is an odd sense of camaraderie between them, something neither of them had originally anticipated.

They are a good team, Marielle decides, silently observing her. They have traveled together long enough to get to know each other, to form their opinions.

 _(They are so different; Marielle is reckless, full of bravado that borders on stupidity. Talsi is realistic and wary but_ fuck _, that's what Marielle loves about her. She keeps her grounded, keeps her from flinging herself headfirst into things without stopping to think. It is more than she could have hoped for.)_

vii.

She is in love by the time she's nineteen. The realization comes as a shock; it is sudden and makes her panic, and she keeps those particular feelings to herself, locked up somewhere in the back of her mind.

Each time she considers saying something, a soft voice reminds her not to risk it.

They are partners in crime, travelers looking out for each other. There is nothing more between them.

* * *

"I... care for you a great deal."

The confession comes out over their evening meal, and for a moment Marielle thinks she heard her wrong, but Talsi looks nervous, _vulnerable_.

"Oh?" Marielle falls silent until the weight of what Talsi said has hit her. "I've also come to care for you a great deal," she says, and she's grinning.

Talsi rolls her eyes, but with a soft laugh, she leans closer to her.

* * *

Years later, when they finally decide to part ways, they both know it is for the best.

viii.

She wakes with her hands bound, destined for execution.

"A nord's last thoughts should be of home," one of the prisoners says, and she brings vague images of High Rock to mind.

 _No_ , she thinks bitterly, her last thoughts will not be of failures and broken promises.

* * *

She is surrounded by death and destruction as she gets to her feet.

By the time she escapes the keep, she is bloodied and bruised, but somehow, miraculously, _alive_.

ix.

 _Dragonborn._ The word feels wrong, the weight of its meaning startling and unsettling.

She is many things, but she is not a hero, a _savior_. She is not meant to lead.

x.

It is the closest place she has had to a home since leaving.

It's an odd feeling, the sense of security that comes with it.

She cannot stay, not forever. But for now, she is safe.


End file.
